


Dancing with the Devil

by ladybiscuits



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Sex, Enemies With Benefits, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:18:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybiscuits/pseuds/ladybiscuits
Summary: In which the Princess of Altea reconsiders the Galra Prince's appeal for a royal alliance. With some side benefits, of course.





	Dancing with the Devil

_“The children of King Alfor and Emperor Zarkon, you and I, a royal alliance between Altean and Galra.”_

With an annoyed huff, Allura narrowed her eyes at the ceiling. The prince’s stupidly amorous voice came unbidden, repeating in her head right when she was finally on the verge of slumber. It was all that consumed her thoughts since he uttered them earlier that quintant.

_You and I, a royal alliance._

_You and I._

Allura smothered herself with one of the pillows surrounding her, groaning in frustration at the absurdity of the situation Lotor unwittingly drove her into. What had gotten into her? _Obviously_ he meant a military alliance between her coalition and the Galra Empire, but as soon as her eyes slid shut, she remembered something else entirely. Specifically, how his glowing eyes leisurely raked up the length of her body as he said so, truly appreciating what he saw for the second time since his imprisonment — something she hadn’t seen since their initial meeting — and leaving her positively ravished by the time his heated stare met hers once again.

Allura warmed at the memory, a strange flutter bursting in her abdomen. At the time, she dismissed it as a trick of the light, despite the uncertainty. But reliving it in her mind more times than she cared to admit forced her to discover things previously unnoticed; the small upturn of the corner of his mouth, pupils blown wide, nails straining against the fabric of his gloves, and his ears—

 _Stars_ , his ears.

Proud, pointed ears were always her weakness (and his were excellent specimens), but their subtle movements suddenly had her hot under the collar in a way she had never experienced before. It was almost embarrassing, honestly; because finding someone attractive was one thing, having an innocent crush was another, but becoming physically affected by someone she had zero romantic entanglements with was downright strange, and most unwelcome considering they were on opposing sides of the war.

Still, the danger he exuded — including the potential political ramifications from engaging in such an affair — simply enthralled her, and that didn’t account his obvious attraction towards her yet. She was well aware that it was a terrible idea being alone with him without the aid of the paladins, but somehow she had the impression that he wouldn’t hurt her. At least, not on purpose anyway.

For a fleeting moment, she wished she were someone other than a princess. To seek her pleasures when and wherever she could, to ignore her duties as a monarch and be free of the pressure to live up to her father’s name. It would never come to fruition, of course; but to fantasize about the captive prince without guilt or disapproval was currently at the forefront of her mind.

What would he be like without his carefully calculated control, she wondered. He had never so much as raised his voice against them in the movements spent imprisoned, maintaining his gentlemanly demeanor even when vitriol was spewed his way. She imagined he’d attempt to preserve that between the sheets. But if someone managed to properly get under his skin, she envisioned him as an incredibly vocal lover; sharp nails tearing through the bed linens, dulcet words whispered in encouragement, a hint of fang grazing her lips as his tongue brushed against hers—

Allura circled her arms around the pillow, cradling it against her beating chest while she rubbed her thighs together. She hoped that the small amount of friction could offer some semblance of relief. Unfortunately, it only heightened her arousal.

_I have never even laid with a man before, let alone courted one, for that matter. Why am I behaving like such a shameless tart?_

The pounding of her heart accelerated in contemplation of her next move. There were only three options she deemed viable in this situation: take care of her increasing appetite herself, ask the duplicitous prince to do it for her (like a quiznaking traitor), or… do absolutely nothing.

But the last option was no fun at all, and with the ache at the apex of her legs intensifying with each passing dobosh, she knew sleep would continue to elude her. With a conflicted bite of her lip, she settled on the less damning — and frankly, _embarrassing_ — alternative, before raising her hips to slip off her undergarments.

“Damn him,” she cursed under her breath, drawing out a pleased sigh at the first press of fingers against her heat.

_Stupid, infuriatingly handsome prince._

* * *

“What in the name of all the ancients am I doing?” Allura muttered to herself, the console chiming under her fingertips.

After one unsuccessful session between her wicked thoughts and fingers, she found herself frowning at the lift’s panel fifteen doboshes later, her stomach turning with unease as it descended to the lowest level of the castleship. Typically, she never had trouble getting herself off, but nothing was doing it for her that evening. Perhaps since the source of her desire was so close by, her body craved the real thing, leading to her current predicament.

She stepped out onto the bridge once the doors noiselessly slid open, the slick from her earlier excursion cooling on her thighs as she closed the distance between herself and Lotor’s cell. How humiliating it was, sneaking through endless hallways to steal him away for a night of pleasure. Allura never felt more a lecher than at that moment.

Lotor sat unmoving from the edge of his bed as she stepped onto the platform, chin propped atop interlaced fingers, his handsome features stoic and distant. Stripped of his overconfidence and smug grin, he appeared nothing like what she initially imagined Zarkon’s son to be. In fact, he seemed almost gentle, albeit lost and a tad forlorn; and even with the lilac of his skin, with his long, pale hair swept behind sharp ears, she had to admit he looked so very Altean.

Allura gasped at the revelation, though consequently startling him out of his trance. He turned to her with wide eyes, blinking in surprise before pushing up onto his feet.

“Princess Allura,” he addressed her warmly, poised veneer returned to its rightful place. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I must confess this is a surprise.”

His voice alone already had her throbbing at her core. She cleared her throat, fisting the fabric of her nightgown in a feeble attempt to focus. “Pleasant or otherwise?”

A smirk pulled at his lips, as if he knew the exact reason for her visit. Fear gripped her for a fleeting tick as he took a few steps closer, his lean form canted against the barrier separating them. “A delight, I assure you. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I…” she swallowed the lump in her throat, the heat creeping up her collar pointedly ignored. “I… have a question.”

Blue-violet on gold narrowed down at her. Disappointment? Suspicion? It was difficult to get a read on him. “Well, best voice it now. You certainly won’t have the chance to after I’m sent off to my demise.”

Allura unfurled her skirt to press her palms upon the barrier. _Just ask him! There’s no shame is wanting to relieve tension. No one will ever know._ Her tongue felt leaden in her mouth.

“Y-Your plans, your goals. What is it that you truly want?” she asked, internally devastated that her brain chose to talk about anything but her problem. It was too late to turn back now.

“Peace and prosperity for all. Truly.”

She frowned. “Now why do I find that difficult to believe? How am I to know you’re nothing like Zarkon?”

Lotor’s brows pitched together in irritation, a low, disgruntled growl escaping him. “Believe what you will, but I am _not_ my father. I want my people to prosper, true, but without the merciless ways of Zarkon’s visionless conquest. The path to peace is only feasible if I’m able to forge an alliance between the Empire and the Coalition, which, coincidentally, you are the leader of.”

Alliance. There was that infernal word again. Allura bit the inside of her cheek.

“But… do you hold _any_ power over the Galra? Zarkon is still their emperor. Quite adamantly so.”

He stared down at her, expression hardening. “Power? I possess slim to none. If you recall, I am a fugitive of the empire; an exiled brat before that, as the Galra continue to affectionately call me.” He paused briefly, unable to maintain eye contact as he continued. “But… if I’m not immediately disposed of when I’m returned to my father, then I shall take whatever means necessary to unseat him.”

“What exactly would that entail? I apologize, I’m not very familiar with Galran customs. What little I do know came from before the war. And that was… ages ago, obviously.”

“Through death, of course,” he answered plainly with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I’m sure it’s the same with every monarch and imperium.”

“Oh…” Her curiosity deflated a touch. She expected something drastic and barbarous, like most of the Galran trials she’d heard so much about in her youth. “I thought you meant to challenge him.”

“Not that it matters a great deal in my current position, but that would be considered treason. Any battle I have against Zarkon after the exchange tomorrow will be to the death.”

She blinked a few times, eyes widening. “W-Wait. You’re willing to _kill_ your own father?” Were they truly so estranged that he’d resort to patricide?

Lotor grimaced, and for the second time in that quintant, anger cracked through his impassiveness. “Must I remind you that he’s out for my own blood? He has crossed galaxies just to hunt me down.”

Allura wasn’t sure what to say to pacify the Galra. She could never imagine striking a blade through the heart of her father or him doing the same to her; but then again, she could say with confidence that their relationships harbored few similarities.

The prince closed himself off by turning his back to her, arms tightly folded across his chest. “You must understand that the options left for me have dwindled significantly after Zarkon’s revival and my generals’ betrayal. We’ve arrived at a point where it’s between my life and his, and I’d rather perish after the fighting has been resolved.” He paused before his voice became menacingly subdued. “If that requires getting my hands dirty, so be it. Better it be me than anyone else.”

 _Dangerous. This man is dangerous_ , her mind tried to warn her. Allura worried on her lower lip, averting her eyes from him. _So why does both my heart and body tell me otherwise…?_

The silence stretched between them when she offered no response, and eventually his gaze slid to her from over an armored shoulder. “Tell me why you really came, princess. I’m positive that questioning my ethics wasn’t part of your plan. It’s a little too late for that now.”

“Is it?” She turned back to him, her lavender on cerulean evenly meeting his intense cobalt. “I’d prefer to know the morals of a person I could potentially ally myself with.”

He raised a brow, interest piqued. “Oh?”

“Yes. I believe working together would be mutually beneficial, despite your standing in the Galra Empire. It's already proven to be thus far.” And it was true. She spoke similar words during their previous meeting; her mind hadn’t changed much, even with Pidge and Lance’s opposition on the matter.

Lotor blinked dumbly, mouth wordlessly opening and closing a few times as he faced her once again. “I-I…”

Allura tilted her head. “You’re surprised.”

“Ah, no, I am simply… _intrigued_.” A grin gradually replaced his frown, softening his features, and Allura felt her whole body begin to pulse anew at the rare vision.

“I assumed the paladins swayed your opinion,” he pressed on, unaware of how he rekindled her turbulent emotions. “You must have thought extensively about this to come visit me at such a late varga.”

 _Perhaps a little too much_. Her thoughts immediately strayed to her bedroom where her fingers worked clumsily against her aching center, fantasizing their first time together as husband and wife. Would he be gentle and reverent in his lovemaking? Fervently unapologetic? Perhaps she would know soon enough. If he didn’t reject her, that is.

She lightly fanned herself with her hand. When exactly did it get so hot in here?

“Are you all right, princess?” Lotor interrupted her from her trance. The concern laced in his voice matched the expression on his face. Another thing she didn’t expect from him. “You look feverish.”

Allura’s entire face burned to the tips of her ears. “I’m— I’m fine!”

It wasn’t convincing in the least, she knew, and Lotor’s dubious expression had her heart hammering in her chest worse than before she arrived. _Stars, please don’t probe for more. I’m a terrible liar._

Alas, like everything else that night so far, it did not go as she wished.

“Something else on your mind then? You seem awfully distracted,” he observed. Allura choked on her words.

“I— You— Well, I-I’m just curious—”

“About?”

She inhaled a calming breath, but her stomach persisted to toss with anxiety. _So this is happening now, is it?_ Would it be considered selfish of her to negotiate after she had her fill of him? Discussing the terms of an alliance was appropriate pillow talk, was it not?

“Y-You see… it’s, um, about the… _nature_ of the potential alliance you mentioned before.”

A small smirk played at his lips, though his eyes remained kind. “What about it flusters you so?”

She toyed with a strand of her hair, weaving it between her fingers, gaze trailing away to land at his boots. “Well… militaristic would be ideal, and arguably the quickest, but, ah… a royal alliance forged through marriage provides far more advantages in the long run. And less complications. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose I would, yes. Although I believe it would grant more suspicions among your associates were you to choose me, the son of the sworn enemy.”

“Initially, but… I imagine the coalition would rest easier if you were my… m-my…”

“Husband?” Lotor supplied helpfully with a small wave of his hand when her voice faded into uneasy silence, unable to speak the word into existence herself. But he had said it so plainly; she wondered if he contemplated a political marriage as much — _if not more_ — than she did. It would make sense, considering his options and how often he was left to his own devices.

“Y-Yes! If you were my husband, they will believe I have a voice in the Empire’s affairs. And to have Zarkon’s son under my thumb would be considered a great victory.”

The tips of his ears wilted the barest of a fraction, which didn’t go unnoticed by the Altean, and the kindness in the blue-violet of his eyes clouded into something else entirely. Once more his mask was meticulously back in place, and Allura’s heart sank to her stomach at the loss. Perhaps she had chosen her words wrong. She only meant it to keep up appearances should they follow through with an alliance; she had no intention of actually oppressing him or stripping him of the last power he possessed.

As soon as she opened her mouth to clarify, Lotor suddenly offered her a placating smile, his tone low yet comforting. “A great victory, indeed, princess.”

She sighed. Even offended, he was polite to a fault and unendingly agreeable. She couldn’t say she would react the same way had he said the same things as she did. In fact, she would outright dismiss any further negotiations regarding a union. Perhaps she was the one undeserving of a royal alliance, after all.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” She hated how small she sounded.

But Lotor just shook his head, hands lifting into a conciliatory manner. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’ve long ago come to terms with being put to use in ways others deem fit.”

“But that’s… not normal, Lotor. No one should be accustomed to that.”

“Perhaps. But it’s a reality I’ve come to accept in my long life. Contrary to popular belief, I am not privileged, nor do people on either side of the war particularly care for my well-being.” At the worry she knew was evident on her face, he further explained, “It is merely a means of survival. If I hadn’t learned that long ago, I wouldn’t be here right now, having this discussion with you.”

What a horrible way to live; suffering betrayal after betrayal, unable to trust anyone in over ten-thousand decaphoebs. She couldn’t fathom how lonely he must be.

“Has it truly all been bad?”

Lotor blinked down at her, brows raised and lips parting in disbelief. “You’re concerned,” he said eventually, strangely soft, touched that she could feel such a thing for him. She hardly blamed him with the way she treated him before. “There’s no need, princess. We cannot change the past. Let us work together towards a better future.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“—This millennium-old war must end. Focusing on whether I had a decent upbringing or not won’t change a thing.”

He was right, of course. But that didn’t explain his selflessness. If what he was alluding about his past was true, shouldn’t he be left wanting more for himself? Especially after spending thousands of decaphoebs alone? Shouldn’t he be angrier? It just didn’t add up.

“Ending the war is for the good of everyone, yes. But surely there must be something you want for yourself.”

Slitted pupils slid away from hers as he lost himself to his thoughts, frown firmly in place. Even with the barrier separating them, she could sense the growing tension building up within him.

“What I want is… frivolous; an impossible dream,” he began, swallowing uncomfortably. “I cannot afford to be selfish in times like these. Too many times has it led to disappointment.”

 _Frivolous? Impossible dream?_ What kind of wish was so unattainable for someone who had lived so long? Her curiosity was piqued, but she knew he was done sharing from the way his shoulders were pulled taut.

“I… I see…”

Silence.

 _Deafening_ silence.

 _Again_.

Allura wrung her hands together, unsure of what to do with herself, how to placate the man across from her, or how to steer the somber conversation to her original debauched goal: release. There must truly be something wrong with her to still be thinking of him like _that_ in the midst of their discussion.

But then Lotor suddenly chuckled, startling her, a handsome grin replacing his frown. Her heart fluttered. The abrupt flash of fang had her weak in the knees, dizzy on the idea of what they might feel like on certain parts of her body.

Trembling, her nails bit into the back of her hand.

_Quiznak, not this again._

“Your sympathy towards me is unexpected, but greatly appreciated.” He placed the flat of his palm atop the center of his chest. “I thank you, Allura.”

Allura.

 _Allura, Allura, Allura_.

Reverence curled around her name, a delectably addicting sweetness on his lips. The molten heat that settled low in her belly blazed to wildfire, leaving her restless and heated from head to toe.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth.

Was this the first time he’d said her name? It must be, for she surely would’ve remembered had he before, especially with the way it sounded on his tongue.

Amorous. Tender. _Intimate_.

Oh, Coran and the paladins would despise her for what she was about to do next.

“I have a proposition for you,” she blurted, clasped palms pressed against her breast. “Since it seems we are more or less in agreement.”

Lotor perked up, as did his ears, his smile gentle. “I’m listening.”

“First and foremost, I accept your proposal for a royal alliance.” The stifling heat returned, rising above her collar. “O-On the grounds that we keep it a secret until I find an appropriate time to break it to the paladins and the rest of the coalition.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. Am I to believe this means you won’t ship me off to my father?”

Allura winced. “That’s the other thing. I’m afraid that’s still part of the plan.”

“Ah.”

If he was disappointed, he was careful not to let it show. But she knew better by now. She, too, would dread the torture complementary of Zarkon’s captivity once again.

Taking a step closer to the cell, Allura traced her fingertips along the collar of her gown with a frown. “Trust me, I don’t like it either. Both Pidge and Lance are very… _vocal_ , and very young. I know it’s not much of an excuse, but I don’t think they understand the gravity of sending you back to Zarkon, especially when you’ve been nothing but helpful to us.”

He hummed under his breath. “So what’s to be done?”

“I can… tamper with the handcuffs I’m supposed to shackle you with tomorrow,” she suggested, “That way you’ll have some means to escape. I cannot do much else outside of that.” Equipping him with a weapon was out of the question as they could easily trace the problem back to her. At least with the cuffs, they could assume it was a simple malfunction.

“That should be sufficient. I’ve gotten by with far less.”

“Good! That’s… good,” she replied quietly, rubbing at her sleeve. “We can… make it official the next time we see each other, when and wherever that may be.”

“As you wish,” he acquiesced with a small bow. Then, “The varga is late, my lady. You should get some rest.”

Allura slid a slippered foot backward, shuddering as she was suddenly hyper aware of the fresh arousal dripping down her thigh, replacing the slick that dried up from earlier. She really should leave and at least make another attempt in the privacy of her bedroom, but her feet were firmly planted to the floor. He managed to awaken a starved part of her solely with his diplomacy, magnanimity, and rich voice; she was eager to find out how much more he could do when he put everything else to use.

Lotor seemed to sense her indecision when she didn’t bother to answer. He arched a curious brow. “Is there… something else?”

“U-Um… I… Well—” she faltered. How does one approach something like this without coming off as desperate? She didn’t think such a method existed.

But she was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t notice when the prince drew closer, golden eyes narrowed in amusement. He was so tall, and so close that she could imagine she’d feel his breath tickle her hair if the barrier didn’t separate them. And— _oh_ , was he talking to her? Right now? His lips were moving, with one side curled up into a smirk. The sight of it nearly made her heart burst out of her chest.

 _Handsome_. It just wasn’t fair.

“Apologies,” she began when he looked at her expectantly. Her voice had suddenly become airy, like someone stole all the breath from her. _When did that happen?_ “Did… Did you say something?”

Lotor exhaled a laugh through his nostrils, eyes going half-lidded. “I asked if you required assistance. I would be more than happy to help.”

Allura blinked, mouth falling open in quiet shock. Did she… _hear_ that right?

“E-Excuse me?”

A clawed hand reached up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck, expression sheepish as his cheeks tinted a shade darker than his skin. “I confess, I, ah... could _smell_ you the moment I realized you were here.”

She hid her burning cheeks behind her damp palms, mortified beyond belief. Spirits, if she could disappear or combust into flames that very tick, she would jump on the opportunity. This was worse than the time she vomited her breakfast in front of an assembly of royals during her first public speech.

And _of course_ the Galra had a heightened sense of smell. She knew that already!

Before the war, many of her evenings were spent in the castle’s archives with her handmaiden, exhaustion settling in her bones as her eyes roamed tablet after tablet on various alien biologies and cultures. They would hide in the corner during their illicit studies, giggling over medical diagrams and outlandish descriptions, wondering if the depictions were accurate or not, all in a silly attempt to help her handmaid pursue a steward appointed under Senak’s royal family.

“I wasn’t sure if it was the result of a tryst with one of your paladins or not,” Lotor interrupted her thoughts with an inquisitive tilt of his head. “It would certainly explain why you’ve been on edge this entire time.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Now she was too humiliated to go any further.

“I should… I should go.”

“Allura, wait,” he pleaded as soon as she turned on her heel to leave. And damn her, her body betrayed her once again after taking a single step, immediately freezing on the spot. She peered at him over a shoulder with her hands clutched securely against her chest, dreading what his next words would be.

He let out a quiet breath. “There’s no need for embarrassment. It’s normal to crave that sort of attention.”

“Is it…? I-I don’t…” she trailed off unsurely. Normal, was it? Rutting against her fingers to impure thoughts of her prisoner and son of her greatest enemy seemed far from normal.

His intense eyes roamed over her face for a few ticks in silent contemplation before they widened with wonder. “You’re innocent,” he spoke plainly, though judgment was absent from his voice.

Her arms fell to her sides, hands curling into fists as she returned to her spot directly opposite the prince. “You’re surprised? I am a _princess_. I don’t go around doing _that_ with every person I meet!”

“Well… yes, of course. I merely figured someone like you would—”

“— _Someone like me_? What’s that su—?”

“—Sincere, ardent… _stunning_.” Lotor’s voice rose above her own, swiftly interrupting with a fond chuckle. “What did you presume I meant?”

 _Stunning_ , he says, like it wasn’t thrown out there to purposely fluster her. She wondered if she could ever keep up with his supply of endless charm. He was certainly doing a better job at preserving a sense of tact than she was. Allura’s brow pinched with her frown, a deep blush accompanying her as her gaze dropped to her slippers. “Nothing good…” she reluctantly admitted.

“Princess, I meant no offense. I only thought that a royal or two from the times of old must have attempted to court you. I wouldn’t blame them in the least. Your temperament and intellect alone are enough to seek your hand in marriage; your ethereal beauty is simply an additional benefit.”

“There were… _crushes_ , mostly. Nothing ever went much further than that,” she explained. Her stomach flipped. What would he think of her now; bereft of touch shared between lovers, and now having never been kissed? “Some of the promising ones were too intimidated when I outsmarted them in, well… just about everything. The rest merely lost interest.” She didn’t know why she was bothering to divulge this information with him; he already agreed to enter a political marriage with her, lack of experience be damned. “But! It doesn’t matter. None of them understood me anyway.”

He stood silent for a moment, a deep wrinkle to his brow, as if he were profoundly bothered by the details gleaned from her love life, or lack thereof. “They are fools, all of them, and entirely undeserving of your affection.”

Her father always told her the right person would come along eventually, and her mother and Coran usually echoed the same sentiments. And her friends typically derailed the conversation to another boy she could potentially marry. But this was the first time someone, close or not, told her otherwise. Her heart swelled, overfull and aching. “Thank you, Lotor.”

He matched the smile she didn’t realize was on her own face, eyes narrowing with a tenderness she never expected from him. “So what shall it be, princess? My cooperation is yours should you wish it. If not, I am perfectly capable of feigning ignorance.”

Easy for him to say. Allura wasn’t sure she could leave this room and pretend this conversation never happen, much less look him in the eye with the knowledge that he knew what her quiznaking arousal smelled like. If only she could keep her hormones in check for one more quintant, or at least try a little harder in the solitude of her bedroom.

But here he was, offering the exact thing she desired. No feelings, no awkwardness; the promise of sweet relief the cherry on top of a guarantee to end the war.

_Well… there would be awkwardness anyway considering it’s my first time, and it would require some degree of nudity for… for him to…_

Blood immediately rushed to her head, ears burning so hot that the thrum of her heartbeat drowned out all noise. The ache at the apex of her legs stood in stark contrast against the ache in her heart — an unvented longing she hoped only he could alleviate.

By the _ancients_ , she wanted it.

With him.

 _Desperately_.

“F-Fine! But only because I was unable to do so myself earlier,” she finally replied in a rush, making her way over to the panel off to the side of his cell before she could gauge his reaction.

She heard him hum thoughtfully, barely catching his words as he murmured, “Now that’s something I’d like to see.”

 _Stars_ , she’ll be set aflame by the end of the cycle if he continued to run his mouth. She could imagine it already: her back pressed against his firm abdomen, supporting her weight as her fingers circled her clit, hot breath tickling the shell of her ear with whispered praises.

Her fingers shook against the console — from nerves or excitement? She couldn’t decide — each high-pitched beep sounding from the interface a testament to her treachery. No, not treachery; falling into bed with the enemy was part of the path to peace, for the good of the entire universe.

She sighed. Perhaps if she told herself that enough, she’d start to believe it.

A gloved hand suddenly extended in front of her, belonging to Lotor himself, upturned as an indication for her to take. Her breath shook as she pried her eyes away from his claws to heated cobalt, her hand senselessly folding itself into his grasp. His touch was hot even through his glove. Sharp nails gently indented the skin on the back of her hand as he guided her to the bed situated at the center of the cell.

“Is this… suitable?” he asked, his large hand still intertwined with hers. “It’s fairly small. Even I could barely fit.”

And it _was_ small. Perfect for the size of an Altean, unsurprisingly. The only way two people could fit was if they lay entangled, pressed together like how she planned.

But it wasn’t the bed itself that was off-putting. It was the room’s overwhelming brightness, excessive emptiness, and drab color that made it feel too clinical. The comfort of her own bed sounded more inviting the more she thought on it.

Perhaps Lotor would even appreciate having a decent place to sleep for the night — _if_ they managed to get any sleep at all, that is.

She gave his hand a quick squeeze, then tugged him along to the lift. “Come with me.”

* * *

Allura thanked the ancients under her breath once they arrived outside her quarters, counting herself lucky that they were undeterred by both Pidge and Lance — who she knew loved to stay up late into the cycle — and Coran — the lightest sleeper in the universe. She wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain herself if Coran caught them. His heart might stop if he found out she was using the Galra prince for nefarious reasons.

The door slid shut behind them, and Allura, finally letting go of his hand, turned to input the code to lock it.

The room was dim save for the soft glow of pale turquoise etched into her bed frame, sheets wrinkled and pillows tossed about just the way she left them. It was comfy, cozy, an infinite amount of times better than the tiny bed in his chilly cell. But Lotor stood unmoving at her side, eyes wide and posture rigid.

“Lotor…?”

He turned to her on a sharp inhale. “Ah… forgive me, princess, it’s just— The smell…”

Fire spread across her cheeks.

Of course — _of course_ — her scent would be more potent there in her room: the place where she masturbated to the thought of him not even thirty doboshes ago. How foolish of her to think otherwise.

“I confess it’s… it’s affecting me substantially. In a good way, of course.”

His gaze searched hers and Allura found herself gasping softly at the sight. His eyes were the darkest she’s seen, a thin ring of blue-violet outlining his pupils, cheeks flushed a deep violet, and fangs more protracted than usual. She didn’t have to look down to see if his claws were the same.

“Allura...” he breathed, voice rough like meeranese silks on sandpaper. It sent a shiver up her spine. “I may not be able to hold back. Are you sure you wish to do this? I’ll only have you completely willing, or not at all.”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I’m not asking you to hold back.” She shrugged off her robe, baring her arms to him. “In fact, I think I would enjoy it very much if you didn’t.”

Lotor pressed a warm palm against her arm, mesmerized as he dragged the claw of his thumb along the wispy marking at her shoulder. She trembled, sensitive to his touch. His tongue pressed to the back of his teeth before unconsciously dragging it along a sharp fang.

He looked ready to devour her, but still he made no move to do so.

Her core throbbed the longer he didn’t do anything. But Allura was ready to get a move on, and if he wasn’t getting the message yet, well—

She caught his eyes, holding his stare as she hooked her thumbs underneath the straps of her nightgown and tugged down, allowing the delicate fabric to pool at her feet with her slippers. His mouth parted in surprise, his gaze immediately trailing down to her chest and lower still.

Perhaps she should have suffered some sort of maidenly shyness with the way he openly gaped at her. But to have _him_ rendered speechless when he made a life of knowing just the right thing to say at every opportune moment, Allura felt nothing but empowered, _confident_.

“You can have me,” she whispered as she stepped closer, feeling lighter than ever. Lips brushed the cut of his jaw before her fingers found the proper grooves and clasps to unfasten his chest piece. It hissed with its release, and the clang of his armor hitting the floor finally got him moving. With a dip of his head, his mouth easily caught hers. A gloved hand cradled the curve of her cheek, claws against her scalp, fangs deliciously grazing her lower lip just like every fantasy her mind conjured up since his imprisonment.

He took advantage of her gasp when he accidentally nicked her lower lip, the brief taste of iron quickly replaced by his tongue. It’s a little clumsy on her part, her response, but he groans into her mouth like it made no difference anyway. She barely even realizes that she unzipped his suit until he leaves a wet trail down her neck, all while ripping off his vambraces and boots as the flat of her hands seek the firm muscle of his abdomen.

Already she was drunk off the taste of him. Lightheaded from the scent of ozone and something else she couldn’t quite place. Bitter. Heady. But in the most pleasant way possible.

It’s almost embarrassing how swiftly they divulge him of the rest of his clothes, both eager and desperate for friction. For that delightful relief she hadn’t experienced since before she was forced into stasis.

_This is already better than anything I could ever do on my own._

_No holding back. No_ going _back._

Not that she wanted to anyway.

Back pressed to sheets, fingers tangled in his hair as their mouths moved together. Every inch of skin flushed, _connected_ together. Soft little moans escaped her lips with each disoriented touch to the markings drawn throughout her body. Lost and without purpose like he, too, was intoxicated by the entirety of her elements.

She hardly realized he’d slid out of his sheath until he pressed fully against her heat with a roll of his hips. Hot. Heavy. Their combined slick dizzying on the senses. Allura choked on a whimper with each ridge rubbed against her clit. Not entering, only _teasing_ her into madness.

She pulled away with a gasp, foreheads together, begging, “Lotor, _please_.”

Violet dusted his cheeks to his shoulders. Pupils near pools of darkness. He let out a breathless chuckle, moving in to kiss her again. “Please what?”

“For the love of all the ancients! _Get on with it before I perish_.”

Lotor’s laugh was genuine, though his response suffused by disbelief. “ _Perish_? Don’t be so dramatic, princess.” His teeth scraped along her collar, tongue darting out to taste pink. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

Allura squeezed his shoulders, nails bite into his skin, her head sinking further into the bed as he took a nipple into his mouth. A thumb caressed the swell of her breast. An exhale trembled out of her, feeling nothing short of a puddle at this point. “T-That’s beside the point,” her voice wavered. “ _Please_ , Lotor. How much more must I beg?”

Brows drew tight, a hint of a pout. A strange sight on someone normally stern and all business. But then again, everything leading up to this moment had been strange to say the least. “Wh— You wish for this to be done so soon?” She could tell his self-control was at its brink in spite of his composed reply.

“We can go at it again later. Now hurry up before I have to mount you myself.”

His lips parted in wonder. Cobalt on gold a touch wider. “I… I wouldn’t exactly complain—”

“ _Lotor_.”

“ _Fine_ , fine.” He leaned in again, a strand of hair brushing her cheek as he captured her lips in a singular, smoldering kiss. Her toes curled at the abrupt contact, arms clasped tightly around his shoulders even as he pulled away. “As my princess commands.”

My princess.

 _My princess_.

Before she could even unpack any of _that_ , Lotor lifted her hips to pull her flush to his own, pressing the head of his cock at her entrance. Inch by inch, with only the slightest resistance, Lotor filled her almost too easily, half-lidded gaze focused to where they were joined. The sting of the stretch only the slightest bit uncomfortable. Every new ridge that pressed inside her had her mind reeling, like it knew he was too foreign; some features too Galra for an Altean like her.

But _stars_ she didn’t care.

Her body spoke differently, instead craving his unconventional; each ridge a delicious friction against her inner walls. Only until he was seated completely inside her did she realize how perfect it all felt, and she couldn’t think of anything aside from that he was meant to be there.

Like this.

With her.

 _Together_.

_Oh, spirits, I shouldn’t be thinking about this right now._

His nose sliding against hers was an unconscious movement, as was the gentle brush of lips. Air shuddered past her own from a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, intermingling with his. And she fought to ignore the odd flutter in her chest at the first push and pull, or the thrilling shiver coursing up her spine when his knot threatened to stretch her further. He growled into her ear at the second thrust, emboldened by her choked moans and pleading hands latched onto his waist.

Each flex brought her mind closer into a fog. And already she could see the last of his walls come crumbling down. The deep furrow to his brow, lids shut in concentration, lip curled over fangs. Completely lost in the feel of her.

Deeper and deeper.

Initially gentle and accommodating, then harsh and unforgiving.

_Yes. Yes, yes, yes._

Exactly what she needed — what she _asked_ for.

And yet he still lavished attention to her shoulders, neck, ears and all the markings in between with teeth and tongue. Laving over bites too cruel. Hums of fascination among groans and growls of pleasure.

“ _Allura_ …”

So soft she almost missed it. Breathless and barely coherent.

Never has her name sounded sweeter.

Bleary blue fluttered shut.

In what felt like barely any time at all, that familiar tension built low in her belly. The same tension that warmed her from head to toe the more he brought her to the edge. Hands slid up from his hips to shoulders, over scar tissue and velvety skin, pressing him impossibly close. Legs locked around his waist, her hips chasing his own. Forehead to collar. She felt like she was curling in on herself.

Stiffening.

Ready to reach that blissful end.

“ _L-Lotor_ …”

Claws ripped into the sheets as he doubled down. Breath held. One of his hands angling her hips in such a way that suddenly had her mind going blank. His thumb circling her clit had her stilling beneath him — _squeezing him_ — her eyes unseeing as her mouth dropped open soundlessly.

Nails clawed down his back. A vision exploding in white. Liquid heat seeped deep into her bones, leaving her feeling both leaden-limbed and light as a feather. Lotor slid an unoccupied hand over her mouth, completely attuned to her, muffling her shameless moans into his palm as he fucked her through her orgasm. He followed her not even a dobosh later. Teeth sinking into her neck with a loud snarl. A comforting warmth pulsed between her legs.

Allura buried her nose into his hair with a deep inhale long after he’d collapsed, limbs tangled and pinned down by his weight. Her haze slowly lifted with each blink. Held him in her arms as he nuzzled her collar.

Sleepy and sated.

Boneless and unmoving.

Allura let out a soft sigh, contented for the first time in phoebs.

Fingers wove into his locks. “Lotor…?”

“Mm…”

“ _Thank you_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always encouraged! Thanks for reading <3


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